I spar with these artists, the heartless and brainless
We're harnessed by chains that are hard to escape, and you change then they label us bastards or traitors
They're charlatans, they're haters, they stunt on us but they're fake as our parliament, but don't be disheartened by them, pardon their failures
If we don't forgive our enemies, we'll crawl the walls like centipedes. Burn our energy like fossil fuels and fuel our own damn effigy.
She said she might grow old but she won't grow upWell, she might, but only if I go first
She wears her heart on her sleeve like; she's wearing a patch on her shoulder. It's not a matter of whether I can catch her, more a matter of whether I can hold her
She thinks out loud she's got me; she laughs with her whole body. I think about how she got it all figured out and wonder why she'd even want me?
Each night I find it's the same ole, when I crawl inside in the evening. I lie down next to an angel; fall asleep and fly with my demons
They say don't live in the past and live each day like it was your last, but. I'd rather live each moment like it was my first, take it slow and sip from the glass
Sounds so serious, don't it? But I'm not concerned with a thing. This is book three, Tolkien, "Return of the King"